


The Yard Wolves Has Grown Up

by Calliopinot



Series: Yard Wolves [1]
Category: Metalocalypse
Genre: Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Anal Play, Anal Sex, Angst, BDSM, BDSM!Skwistok, Bad Aftercare, Blood, Bondage, Chastity, Choking, Cock Rings, Crying, Dethfashion, Dissociation, Domination, Drugs, Emotional/Psychological Abuse, Hospitals, Hurt/Comfort, Implied Relationships, M/M, Mildly Dubious Consent, Multiple Orgasms, NSFW, Oral Sex, Orgasm Control, Orgasm Delay/Denial, Overdose, Physical Abuse, Rope Bondage, Rough Oral Sex, Sex Toys, Spanking, Submission, Suicide Attempt, a whole lot of yelling and fighting, blood (animal/meat blood), dom!toki, don't worry it doesn't factor in to the sex, emotional torture, i don't really know how to tag that, i enjoy doing bad things to these characters what is wrong with me, implied Choki, sub!Skwisgaar
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-06
Updated: 2018-03-25
Packaged: 2019-03-01 07:09:40
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 3
Words: 12,269
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13289691
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Calliopinot/pseuds/Calliopinot
Summary: Toki and Skwisgaar fall into a hidden part of each other's lives. How far they'll fall is anyone's guess.





	1. The Yard Wolves Has Grown Up

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tumblr prompt: “I didn’t know you were a sub and when I called you a good boy/girl you almost cried” sex

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For the lovely anon who sent this ask: If you’re looking for prompts, Skwistok for “I didn’t know you were a sub.” Maybe with submissive Skwisgaar? :) I love your writing!
> 
> Thanks my friend :)

 

"Skwisgaar! Skwisgaar comes look!"

 

Toki had been messing around with the yard wolves again and, while he didn't really care more about it than any of his other bizarre hobbies, Skwisgaar figured it best to see what the little brat was going on about. Building model airplanes didn't exactly threaten the loss of limbs.

He set his own instrument aside and followed the giddy guitarist to a small enclosure on the lawn outside. It had to have been constructed just for this purpose, whatever this purpose was – black metal poles surrounded the pair in a semicircle, driven into the ground about a foot apart and rising into the air well above their heads. On the other side, a small pack of gray wolves eagerly awaited whatever their good buddy Toki had in store.

Skwisgaar couldn't shake the feeling he was stepping into one of those diving cages for idiots who swam with sharks. And didn't those idiots bait the water so the sharks would come closer—

"Skwisgaar looks what I teaches dem!"

Toki plunged his hand into a huge plastic bucket that lay on the ground beside where he stood. Inside it was an indistinguishable mass of organ meat and blood. Skwisgaar wasn't sure if the gurgling in his stomach was due to the sight alone, or Toki's totally unbothered glee.

The young man withdrew a sizable handful of flesh and held it up to the pacing, drooling wolves.

"SIT!"

Three of the four animals immediately complied. 

"What did I say?" The fourth sat.

Toki rewarded their efforts with a toss of meat through the metal bars before turning to beam at his less-than-enthused audience.

"Toki, ams dis whats you interrupts my practicings fors?"

A frown of disappointment flitted across Toki's face, before the boyish grin took over once more.

"Wait wait. Looks!"

He grabbed another handful of gore and held it up; the three obedient pups sat without being asked. 

"Ragnar." The insolent wolf again took his seat. "Good boy."

Toki squared his shoulders. "DOWN!" 

All four lay down.

"OVER!"

All four rolled to their left, then sat up and waited. Toki could barely contain his joy as he chucked hunks of liver and cow heart to them, one by one. They didn't even fight for a turn.

Skwisgaar had to admit, that was pretty impressive. But just how much work had Toki been putting into taming wild animals? Time he assuredly should have been dedicating to practicing guitar.

Before he knew it, something warm and wet and squishy was being pressed into his palm. He looked in horror at his junior's delight – and at the blood that smeared across his face as he tucked an errant lock of hair behind his ear. 

"Toki—eugh!"

"Come on, you cans does it!"

"Dis ams diskustins!" 

"Just talks to de woleves, and den t'rows it. You sees me do it!"

Skwisgaar hesitated. But the stinking meat already sullied his beautiful hands. And he did fancy himself a wolf-tamer, after all…

"Sit."

"Louder!"

"SIT!"

All four – including the mischievous Ragnar – planted their hindquarters at Skwisgaar's command. The Swede was in awe. 

"Dey did it."

"Yes, dey did. Good boy."

"T'anks you, sir." 

Both men fell silent as the pieces fell into place. So Skwisgaar's domineering exterior masked a submissive kink. So Toki's deft hand with wild beasts was merely practice for more sentient creatures. 

It was a serious gamble, the stakes between them higher than any spin of Russian roulette. But Toki turned his gaze to the older man. Their eyes were locked on each other for what could have been hours before he took a measured step into Skwisgaar's space.

What did he have to lose? Besides everything.

Skwisgaar let out a deep, halting breath as he cast his eyes slowly downward.

"Ahh. Good boy."

Toki could feel the pleasure radiating from the other man at his metered praise. This bet was going to pay off.

"Bes in my room in fifsteen minutes. And cleans yousself up. You stink likes rotten meats. And todays you's de only t'ing on the buffet." He placed a bloody hand on the Swede's downturned cheek for added effect. "Understands?"

"Yes, sir."

This bet was going to pay off in spades.

 

***

 

Fourteen minutes later and the scene was set just to his liking, the room illuminated only by red candles of varying heights and hues lining every surface. Photos of his family and bandmates hung where they always had, just for that extra bit of discomfort.

Toki didn't usually play these games in his own bedroom, but he didn't want to freak Skwisgaar out with his private dungeon – not now that he'd been gifted such an unexpected treat. He'd taken the opportunity to bathe, himself – dried cow's blood was only an aphrodisiac under certain very specific circumstances – and don his handmade black leather Eric von Weichlinghammer original. Everyone else had burned their outfits after they'd learned of their rather unsavory provenance, but none of them looked as damned good in human skin as Toki.

At exactly the fifteenth minute, Toki heard a soft knock on his door. He perched on the edge of his hard wooden chair before he responded.

"Enters."

Timidity looked fucking amazing on Skwisgaar Skwigelf. His hair, still wet from the shower, hung in an unpretentious curtain around his downcast face. He'd even had the presence of mind to wear only a robe and slippers for the short walk down to Toki's quarters, saving this evening's master the effort of removing boots and jeans and everything else. 

"Wowee." The whole package was so utterly stunning Toki didn't even begrudge him the surreptitious glance up at his face. He'd punish him for it later. "Takes off you clothes."

A swift tug at the velvet belt revealed a pale, naked, semi-erect god. It was all Toki could do not to reach out and bury his face in the man's crotch and float off to heaven. He grabbed a forearm and tugged down, encouraging Skwisgaar to his knees and removing temptation from his line of sight.

"I don'ts knows what kinds a games you plays usuallies. Don’ts care, reallies. Alls you gots to worries about ams pleasin' me. You calls me 'sir.' I calls you whatsever I godsdamn well wants."

Skwisgaar squirmed. Toki broke. 

"Ams dat alrights wit' you?"

"Uhm…"

"Looks at me. Ams okay."

He'd never seen such fear in this man's eyes before. It made him regret wearing such uncomfortably tight pants.

"Ifs you coulds… please… don'ts calls me 'sluts' or 'whores' or nothin likes dat. Please." A flush rose to his face as his eyes fell back to the floor.

Toki threatened to break again before he reminded himself to keep emotion out of this arena. He cradled the Swede's cheek in acceptance of his request, then slapped it. 

"T'anks you, sir."

Toki stood, abruptly, and moved to his closet. From the shallow sound of the door opening – and the cacophony of instruments rattling against it – this was not his ordinary walk-in. Skwisgaar waited patiently as his new master made his selection. He dared not sneak another peek.

After a few moments Toki retuned to where his meek guest kneeled on the floor. The cold, flat leather tip of a riding crop edged tauntingly between his ass cheeks. _So, he gets straight to the point_. Skwisgaar's cock didn't mind the boldness.

"Up," Toki commanded, and the submissive blond rose dutifully to his feet. The height difference made manhandling him awkward, but the Norwegian was able to arrange him into a seated position, straddling the chair with his ass hanging just over the edge, easily enough.

He circled his captive once, trailing the end of the crop over every inch of exposed flesh as he conducted his examination, stifling his glee at every muffled shudder whenever the leather passed an especially sensitive area. Skwisgaar was drawing him a roadmap, and he planned to take full advantage. 

The Swede couldn't help but jolt at the sound of the crop clattering to the floor. Toki couldn't help but laugh out loud at the extreme reaction.

"Relax. Yous ams safe. For now." 

He gathered the length of rope and unspooled it, inch by inch, directly under Skwisgaar's nose.

"Looks at me while I does dis." Toki liked an audience, after all. He arranged his captive's hands along the top rail of the chair back and lashed them in place, all the while feeling curious, subservient eyes boring into him.

"Has you evers been penetrated?" 

"Ja, sirs."

"How recently?"

"Y-yesterdays."

Toki hummed as he continued the intricate knot pattern down to the floor, where he tied Skwisgaar's feet to the front legs of the chair. Whether the sound was in appreciation or intrigue, Skwisgaar couldn't be sure.

"Yous been wif guy?" 

Skwisgaar swallowed hard. This process was humiliating enough without such an invasive line of questioning. But a firm slap to his ass helped the flood of honesty.

"Answer me!"

He sighed away the brunt of the sting. 

"Ja… um… yes, sirs. Nots for… ten year, maysbe more."

Toki didn't ask who it was, though he had a guess. He secured the last bit of rope and stood to retrieve the fallen crop.

Ordinarily a bound sub wasn't much of a feast for his eyes; until they got moving, such as they could, the piece of meat in the middle of the room was about as tantalizing as a 90s Playboy centerfold. But Toki stopped in his tracks at the sight before him: Skwisgaar Skwigelf, his lead guitarist, lead tormentor for nearly half his life, sexual fantasy on more than one depressed, lonely night, sat here, in his room, tied naked to a chair, desperately trying to regulate his breathing, rock hard and eager to please and ready to submit _to him_.

Toki swooned, catching himself on the corner of the desk, as he scanned the chain of events that got them here. Had the yard wolves broken down the makeshift fence and mauled him to death? Was he really in Valhalla? Was this all just a heavenly fantasy?

"Please, sir."

Skwisgaar's choked plea was firmly cemented in this plane of existence.

Toki rounded on him, crop in hand.

"I could gets used to yous beggin' me." He tapped the end lightly, teasingly across the Swede's haughty cheekbone. "Buts, tells me, whats you beggin's for?"

"Fors… fors you, sirs."

THWAP! The crop sliced through the air and landed on Skwisgaar's exposed backside. He rutted forward, as much as the restraints would allow, but stifled a groan. 

"Dat's not goods enuff, I ams afraid." THWAP! THWAP THWAP THWAP! The thin leather fell on one spot until it shone red as the candles that illuminated it, until Skwisgaar finally moaned in discomfort and pleasure.

"Please, sirs. I'm beggin's fors you cock."

"Mmm." Toki resumed the teasing taps. With his idle hand, he popped loose the studded gusset at the front of his pants, mercifully freeing his erection.

Skwisgaar visibly balked at the size. The silicone toys his dominatrices favored were not small, by any stretch of the imagination, but a rubber strap-on couldn't match the weight and girth and raw natural essence of the flesh that now stared him down.

A throaty chuckle from above – and another smack to his reddening cheek – brought him back to reality. He opened his mouth, dutifully, expectantly, and locked eyes with his friend and dominator.

"Heh, boy, you's a real sl—" Toki cleared his throat. "You's eager."

But instead of his cock, Toki placed the tip of the riding crop on Skwisgaar's tongue. His dick gave a welcome twitch as the Swede closed his mouth around the leather, sucking gently, eyes fused together all the while.

All at once, Toki withdrew the crop, swinging it in a massive arc down to Skwisgaar's backside. He gave a startled yelp at this, then another, and another, as the crop fell indiscriminately across his ass and upper back. Only when the cries died down, when Toki knew his captive was losing agency, did he let up his aggressive hand. 

"Now. Opens you mouth." Skwisgaar's jaw fell lazily open, cloudy doe eyes fixed on his captor.

"Mmm." Toki chucked the riding crop into the corner of the room, out of reach, where it couldn't tempt him. The warm, clammy hand that had been gripping it instead cradled his senior's tender cheek. "Good boy."

Skwisgaar's eyes fluttered weakly at the praise.

"T-t'anks you, sir—" But he could barely complete his rote thanks before his mouth was invaded by eight inches of throbbing Norwegian. He choked, at first, battling his gag reflex and the tears that threatened to spill from his eyes. Lost, frantic, they searched Toki's for some measure of relief as the Nord mercilessly plowed into his face.

Toki sighed, enraptured by the sheer beauty that surrounded him. He dug his fingers into Skwisgaar's golden mane and pulled, hard. The effort made the man wince, but still he fought back the tears. Toki was beginning to regret discarding the crop, when a different approach crossed his twisted mind.

"You's ams so beautiful, Skwisgaar." The Swede's brow notched upward at the compliment, unexpected as Toki continued his oral assault. This arena was not usually one for flattery. "Does you knows dat? Of course you does. You's ams vains. Buts now you knows Toki t'inks you's beautifuls."

Now he choked not on Toki's dick, but on an unpleasant lump that formed in the back of his throat.

"Beautifuls and prefrect." He accentuated the praise with a firm grasp of Skwisgaar's skull and a deep thrust, just enough to send those welling tears over the edge.

Just enough to send _him_ over the edge. 

Toki panted and groaned as he watched himself spill into the open, eager mouth. Skwisgaar did his best to swallow against the sobs, sliding his heavy tongue to catch the irregular spurts.

But it was too much, in the end, it was all too much, and his head fell forward onto his bound fists, and semen and tears streamed down his chin, and his entire body wracked with failure.

"I's… I'ms sorries. I'm so sorries."

Toki had no frame of reference for this. His other subs, he normally just used them and left them for someone else to clean up the mess. This was _his_ mess – all of it.

"Shh, Skwisgaar. You dids great." His fingers were fast at work unwinding the rope. A coiled bit of the nylon wiped gently across Skwisgaar's face for want of a towel, then he helped the Swede slowly to his feet.

He didn't know what else to do, so he pulled the sobbing wreck of a man into a clumsy embrace, careful not to poke him with the spikes on this idiot outfit he still had on. Toki was alarmed by how utterly cold Skwisgaar felt. Sex was supposed to warm the body up, right? Apart from the inflamed spots on his back where the crop had struck, Skwisgaar's skin felt like ice.

"Comes here." Toki pulled the pair toward the bed, but was met with resistance.

"Neh. I t'inks I goes now."

"I saids come!"

Skwisgaar gave a start at the command, but meekly complied, lying down on Toki's comically undersized twin bed. Toki shed the rest of his Dethfashion and fetched a thick fur blanket from the closet before joining his bandmate.

 _A naked Norwegian is a thousand times better than any electric blanket_ , Skwisgaar marveled in his semi-lucid state.

They huddled together, flames from the candles dying one by one, as the Swede slowly came back to himself.

"Tokis?" 

"Hmm?"

"Dids… um… dids you means whats you says? Ams I… You t'inks I's ams… you know…"

The increase in temperature at his side suggested a bit of a blush from the young Nord. "Um. Beautifuls and prefects?" Toki fidgeted. There was no getting out of this. But then, the two men were lying naked together in bed, and his dried-up cum still lie caked on Skwisgaar's face, and in his stomach – the embarrassment ship had sailed.

"J-ja. I means it."

Skwisgaar sighed. In acceptance or happiness or annoyance, Toki couldn't tell. Neither would Skwisgaar. "Ja. Okay."

A few more quiet moments passed. The last candle breathed its final breath, and with it, so did the sadistic beast within Toki. In its place, the timid, insecure rhythm guitarist returned.

"Skwisgaar?"

"Hmm?" 

Toki didn't really know what to ask of him. Their dynamic wouldn't change. It couldn't. Skwisgaar would still be the rude, domineering, prideful asshole and Toki would be the trampled flower under the boot of Swedish tyranny (in his mind). Bringing anything that happened in here outside of the bedroom was far beyond the ill-defined rules of the game, and neither man would risk it.

"Skwisgaar… Wills you come back?"

The Swede turned to look at him in the dark, where he knew his expression would be indiscernible.

"Yes, sir."


	2. Remedy

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Skwisgaar is battling a bout of "guitar exhaustion," and there's only one solution.
> 
> (Toki's dick. Toki's dick is the solution.)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is the sequel to [The Yard Wolves Has Grown Up](https://archiveofourown.org/works/13289691/chapters/30412455) that no one asked for, and by golly there will probably be a third chapter in the Yard Wolves Trilogy, let's just call it. Because the world cannot have enough BDSM Skwistok, no it can't. 
> 
> It's ALSO the first part of this ask over on Tumblr which had to include the line “Good thing I didn’t ask for your opinion."  
> spys-art-blog asked:  
> Can the prompts be nsfw? If so, #17 Skwistok about chastity. If not, #2 about Toki getting doom star flashbacks h a h a

Skwisgaar was a mess, lately. He didn't know why, which is to say, he knew exactly why. He just couldn't bring himself to admit the reason, let alone remedy the situation. To the world, he was suffering another bout of "guitar exhaustion."

Offdensen had gotten the American Psychiatric Association, through methods that went unchallenged by the Swede, to include GE, as it became known, in the just-issued DSM-VI, just to provide cover for his sloppy play and general malaise.

But that did nothing to fix the problem.

There was only one solution.

 

***

 

"Skwisgaar. Yous playin's ams dildoes." Toki leveled the insult so casually the assembled band had to look up from their assorted distractions to confirm its source. He wasn't even focused on his fellow guitarist, was just idly tuning his gleaming white Flying V between bites of French toast.

Eyes darted quickly to Skwisgaar, pale skin flushing with embarrassment and rage as he prepared to launch an invective sure to put an end to the day's recording, if nothing else. But—

"I hate to say it, uh, Skwisgaar, but he's right. You gotta get your shit together, man." Aghast haughty visage turned to Nathan Explosion. How could he side with Toki?

"Yeh, boy, 'm glad someone said _somet'in._ And uh, not to pile on or not'in, but dood, you haven't sounded this bad since ye had Magnus breathin' down yer neck." _Et tu, Pickles?_

"You know, guysh, we _could_ juscht uzsh Toki on thish nexcht one, if Schwischgaar can't pull it together." The sidelong sneer Murderface cast at the trembling lead guitarist said the rest.

Skwisgaar couldn't justifiably defend himself against this onslaught. He wouldn't survive a counterattack, either. So instead he stood, without a word, set his cherished guitar aside, and left the room.

There was only one solution.

 

***

 

Four hours passed without sign of Skwisgaar. His ordinary reprieve in times of great stress was abandoned in a room with four men who doubted his ability to use it.

Toki's mild concern evolved into slight panic when he found the Swede's room empty, bed cold and sheets untouched.

He hurried to his own room, head clouded with terrible "What if?" scenarios and plans to trek out into the frigid night in search of his missing friend. But Toki only made it as far as his doorstep before those fears were washed away in a sea of relief and confusion.

"Skwisgaar!? What's you doin' here?"

In a literal sense, Skwisgaar was curled up on Toki's pathetically small bed – booted feet dangling off the end, blond hair a swirled mess about his normally proud shoulders – spooning an evil-looking, pointy-tailed teddy bear.

He shot upright at the shrill tone of his friend's voice. But the blood rushing to his face didn't owe entirely to rising six feet in half a second. 

"Toki! Erm, you sees…" Skiwsgaar realised he was still holding the bear, panicked, and dropped it. Felt sorry for the fluffy little guy and picked him up, dusted him off, placed him back on the bed. Thought better of it and placed him on the shelf – facing away from the two men standing there, so awkwardly.

Toki folded his arms and leaned against his little work desk. He had a sneaking suspicion of what had been bothering the lead guitarist, but to see him so goddamned flustered in his presence – well this was sheer entertainment.

Skwisgaar cleared his throat and plowed on, eyes averted. "Anyways, you sees, afters de last time, I means, dat time we, uh, you knows…"

"Uh huh, I knows. Go on…" Toki had to fight to keep the smile tucked safely under his cheeks.

"I hasn't been feelin' exactlies, uh, confidenks."

Oh.

"Oh."

Oh no.

"Oh noes…" 

This wasn't what Toki expected at all. This was _it_. Toki broke him. Toki destroyed him emotionally, ruined the best thing that had ever happened to him. One little game of whips and chains and Skwisgaar was irrevocably damaged. And it was all his fault.

"Nej, nej! Not likes dat!" Skwisgaar had read the disaster all over Toki's face.

"I justs – _Will you understand me if I speak in Swedish?"_  

Toki raised an eyebrow. In the entire time he'd known Skwisgaar – even the early years, when Skwisgaar helped with his struggling English – he'd never once heard him speak his native language. Toki eventually decided Skwisgaar only knew heavily accented broken English and nothing else.

"Dat depends. _Vil du forstår meg hvis jeg snakker Norsk?"_

Skwisgaar blinked at him.

" _Anyway. I, um. Goddammit, I sat in here and figured out what I was going to say and then I fell asleep because your bitch ass_ didn'ts bothers come looks for me!"

Toki shifted his weight to the other leg and waited.

" _ANYWAY. You've probably figured this out by now, but sex is very important to me."_

Toki shrugged. He knew Skwisgaar did it a lot, but chalked that up to addiction.

" _Well, it is. And when I started experimenting, I got a little crazy. I'm talking anonymous orgies, totally unprotected, all kinds of kinks, really risky, dangerous shit. I'm lucky I didn't catch anything permanent."_

Toki was, too, now that he thought of it.

_"I fell into the S &M thing kind of by accident. It started off with a couple of groupies who wanted to be spanked, then rumors got around that I was this big slave master. It was nice for my ego, for a little while, but, and I know it may surprise you, but I'm no good at being a dom."_

"Toki's had his share'a failed doms, Skwisgaar." 

The Swede chuckled. He'd forgotten he was in the company of someone else in the scene. It put him at ease, if only slightly.

" _Right. Well, there was one dominatrix who totally shook me up. I mean, she completely changed the way I think about sex and pleasure. And control. Over myself. Now, it's like therapy to me. When I feel like I'm losing control over myself, I seek one of the mistresses."_

Toki nodded slowly, unfocused. He'd never thought so deeply about the psychology of the BDSM games he, himself, played. He just threw on some leather and spikes and summoned a willing pawn whenever he needed to work out some aggression. Sure, he'd learned a few rules, some guidelines about limits and safe words. But was it really that deep?

" _The problem is—"_ Toki's attention snapped back to the man in front of him, when he grasped his elbow— "Dey ams nots workin no more, de lady doms."

Skwisgaar's panicked expression said the rest. But Toki wasn't satisfied with nonverbal communication.

"Sos? What's you wants ol' Toki do's abouts it?"

Skwisgaar stared dumbly at the rhythm guitarist's blithe expression. His free hand clutched the air between them.

"I… you's de only t'ing I t'inks abouts in dem scenes! I can'ts get you outs'a here!" His free hand tangled into his own hair and pulled, as though he were trying to extract thoughts of Toki Wartooth from his brain by force.

Sated, for the moment, Toki finally shifted his weight off the desk. He gently extricated himself from Skwisgaar's vise grip, but kept hold of the hand.

"I hears a lots o' whinin' 'bout where you's dick goes," he said softly. "Tells to Toki eggsackly what's you want."

"I wants to subs for yous again." Skwisgaar was frantic, pleading. "I do's anyt'ing you wants to feels dat ways. Please. I can'ts do not'in rights, I can'ts t'ink 'bouts no'tin—"

Toki silenced him with a gentle squeeze of his hand. He smiled up at him.

"You didn't needs to goes t'ru all dis. I insviteds you back, remembers?"

Skwisgaar rolled his eyes.

"Ja, right, what's I sez? 'Hey, Tokis, I can'ts get dis riffs rights, I needs you ties me up an' spanks my ass raw?'"

"Sound pretties good to me." Toki pursed his lips. He held Skwisgaar's calloused fingertips up to his eyes, and contemplated his next move. "But onlies if I gets to fucks you ass after."

He peered up at Skwisgaar after a moment. What he saw gave him all the answer he needed.

"Goods." Toki dropped the hand he only just realised he'd been practically worshipping. "We does dis t'ing in one week."

Skwisgaar's jaw about hit the floor.

"We does dis my way? We does dis my way. One week, and you don't gets off none. No ladies, no fellas, no ol' lefty. Gots it?"

Skwisgaar opened his mouth to speak.

"No ol' righty either." Toki rolled his eyes. "I wants you forgets what dem sluts feels like. I wants you t'inkin' only 'bout Toki. I wants you _beggin'_ for it by times I gets you."

Toki gave him an appraising glare. "Yous gonna make it, or I needs to locks you up?"

Skwisgaar opened his mouth to speak once more, and nearly choked. "Nej! Nej, dats ams no neskesary. I's cans handles mines own self. Buts I don't t'inks deres ams dat much, eugh, value in chaskisty, Tokis. 

**“Den I guess it ams a good t'ing I didn’t ask you's opinion.”**

***

 

On the agreed upon date, at the agreed upon hour, Skwisgaar waited in his room as instructed, clean, horny as hell and increasingly frenzied over what was to come. He wanted to fret away his frustration, but his play had only worsened in the intervening week since he'd admitted his condition to Toki. The only thing worse than bad sex for one's guitar skills was, evidently, abstinence. 

So he set to pacing his room. He hated being made to wait, but he knew it was part of the game, part of the torture. At long last, a single rap sounded through his heavy wooden doors. He nearly fell into them in his eagerness to answer, had to collect himself and restore some semblance of swagger before he let Toki have _all_ the power, goddamnit.

But when he opened the door, the man standing before him was not the little Norwegian he expected. Sure, he was short, brown hair, a little shrill at times. But there the similarities stopped.

"You're ready, I trust?" Charles Foster Offdensen had the right address, it seemed. "Then follow me."

Skwisgaar trailed his manager like a confused puppy. How much did he know about what was going on? Why did Toki send him to play fetch? And just where the hell was he taking him?

They stopped at the end of a corridor Skwisgaar wasn't sure he even knew existed. Charles reached out and pulled at the crook of a wall sconce. Honest to God, like they did in the movies, pulled down on the sconce, and the sound of stone grinding on stone filled the narrow hallway.

"What in de name of Odin…"

A secret passageway opened in the previously solid wall, revealing a dim, spiral staircase that only led one direction.

Charles stood patiently, waiting for his guest to take the first step down into the abyss. 

When at last they reached their destination, a black-walled, concrete-floored room with a single door on the side opposite the one they entered, Skwisgaar wasn't even that surprised to find what it contained, not after the bizarre journey that led them there. A few mighty hooks drilled directly into stone walls held up chains of varying weight. Some terminated in loops or carabiners; others in nasty looking meat hooks. He wondered obliquely if those were just for display, or if they'd ever seen use in the arena.

In the center of the room, a wrought iron chair sat bolted to the ground. Two arms jutted out from either side the chair back. A small black satchel lay beside the chair. Otherwise, the room was empty.

"Strip."

Except for Charles, who Skwisgaar had completely forgotten about.

"Eeuhhh…"

"We have a schedule to adhere to, Skwisgaar, and I'd rather not, ah, force you to abide it."

Skwisgaar's face was frozen in shock and mild horror as he disrobed. To his knowledge, his manager had barely even seen him in his skivvies, and that owed only to intrusion into hot tub time. By the time he was fully sky-clad, Skwisgaar couldn't help but sport a bit of a semi – the whole thing was so weird and intimate and the power imbalance was already turning him on…

Charles noticed. Skwisgaar flushed.

"Sit." Charles gave the command with a smirk, and a flood of realization overtook the Swede. How long had Offdensen and Toki… just how much kinky shit had been going on in this haus, and right under his nose? And why was he, god of intercourse, the last to know!?

Skwisgaar took up his position on the cold iron chair, facing outward, jaw agape as the manager got to work with the contents of the satchel – soft leather straps he tightened first around the guitarist's ankles, then securing his wrists to the spread wings of the chair's back.

"Good?"

"Uh… ja."

"Good. You're almost ready." 

Charles dropped back to his knees, and Skwisgaar nearly lost consciousness. Out of the bag Charles had grabbed an innocuous piece of silicone, which he deftly threaded around Skwisgaar's balls, securing it in place at the base of his cock. If he didn't know better – which at this point, he didn't – Skwisgaar could've _sworn_ Charles stroked him off a bit too.

Offdensen rose to his full height before the bound Swede, who realised in that moment exactly why he'd been conscripted for this task – beyond whatever heretofore unmentioned _thing_ he had going on with Toki. He'd never taken the man seriously in his life before, considered him a faceless robot at best and a butler at worst, but now, _now_ , he utterly oozed authority. Skwisgaar would bend over for him and more. Holy _shit_ , how blind he'd been.

"Open."

Skwisgaar obediently opened his mouth, though his jaw threatened to drop anyway as he watched Offdensen swiftly remove his signature red tie and roll it into a tight coil. He stuffed the silk into the Swede's mouth, letting his fingers linger just longer than necessary on his lips.

"This evening's master will be with you momentarily."

And then he was gone.

 

***

 

He hated being made to wait, but he knew it was part of the game, part of the torture. Only now, he was somewhat grateful for the time to himself, time to replay the improbable series of events that led him here, time to collect himself and try to stabilize his breathing and heartbeat.

All too soon, the heavy metal door out of which Offdensen had disappeared swung open again, and in walked Toki. He looked different, tonight. It wasn't just the hair – tied back in a low ponytail – or the pants – slung low on shirtless hips, unencumbered by his usual heavy boots. He carried into the room a warm air of confidence, of absolute and unquestionable power, that Skwisgaar could only hope he would wield responsibly.

Toki sauntered lazily over to his captive and performed his inspection. No words passed between the two as he circled the bound beauty – Skwisgaar, because his mouth was occupied, Toki, because he was afraid his voice might break under the sheer awe of what he beheld.

Though he managed to bite his tongue, Toki's excitement was already making itself known. The bulge in his pants was evident, but he didn't try to hide it. They both knew why they were there.

"Offsdensens do's good work, ja?" Skwisgaar gazed up at the dominant Norwegian and nodded his head. He had a million questions, but recognized the lack of answers as part of the psychological torture he so richly deserved.

"Mmm. I likes you silence." Toki drew a hand down Skwisgaar's proud cheek. "Okej. Tonights ams gonna goes a littles differensk from whats you prollies expectins."

He grasped the end of the red tie between thumb and forefinger; Skwisgaar practically leapt out of his seat – as much as he could, bound as he was.

Toki chuckled gently as he unspooled the silk from his captive's mouth.

"Firstlies, relax. I ain'ts gonna hit you. Unless you misbehaves." He punctuated the last line with a snap of the tie, directly under Skwisgaar's nose.

"Second, Toki don'ts wants to hear not'in outta you. I's not gonna gags you. Dis ams a test'a, ya know, wills power."

He wrapped Charles's tie around his own neck, looping it into a full Windsor without the aid of a mirror. 

"Ja, Charlies' been teachin's me. He beens teachin's me a lotsa t'ings."

Toki grinned seductively, teasing the end of the silk around Skwisgaar's chin.

"Oh, one more t'ing. You amment's alloweds to come unstil I says so." He threw away the final parameter like it was nothing. "Readies?"

Skwisgaar nodded, totally agog.

Toki began at Skwisgaar's back, both hands gently caressing his left shoulder. A sensual massage didn't exactly fall into any category of sado-masochism Skwisgaar had ever encountered…

"I t'inks you's prolem is I gets ins to you head, Skwisgaar."

Oh. There's a lecture component, too.

"I calls you prefict, an' you t'inks yous gotsta be prefic, and if you's not, you's no good. You t'ink dat way anysways, but den I says it… anyway Toki t'inks dat ams why you's guitar suck so bad latelies."

Skwisgaar was grateful Toki couldn't see him alternately wince and frown at the spot-on evaluation.

Toki made his way around front, humming at every barely audible sigh and gasp his digital worship engendered.

"You's still nots relaxed. Dat's anodder prolem. Gots to chill out somestime. I helps you wit' dat. In a minute."

Toki slipped off the moccasins he'd worn to sneak downstairs and doffed his pants without fanfare. He thought about leaving the tie on, but ultimately discarded it, too. He wanted Skwisgaar focused on him and him alone.

Skwisgaar hadn't much opportunity to appreciate the totally naked, fully erect Toki Wartooth last time. He was in awe.

"You likes whats you see?"

Skwisgaar nodded slowly. Toki frowned at him.

"You likes Toki?"

Skwisgaar nodded slowly.

"You don'ts hates Toki."

Skwisgaar looked him in the eye, shook his head. _No_.

Toki stepped forward and knelt between his legs. He took his strained cock in hand, pausing for a moment to enjoy the sharp hiss from above, and checked the silicone ring. It had been on for a while… Skwisgaar was surely no stranger to cock rings, but he probably didn't have more than 15 minutes left before damage could set in. Toki definitely didn't want to be the one to break Skwisgaar Skwigelf's cock – not that way, at any rate.

He licked a trail from the base to the tip, rolling his tongue back and forth over the ridge as he went. The sensation was lightning to Skwisgaar, who hadn't been touched in over a month in Skwigelf years.

His throat wanted to whimper, but he swallowed it back, as Toki swallowed his dick.

His legs wanted to kick, his arms tried to thrash, but he was strapped down, leather and steel to iron, as Toki suckled and bobbed. 

His body broke out in a sweat as Toki dove down again and again, fingers digging into his thighs, cheeks suctioning every so often, just enough to make the Swede gasp and wheeze and beg, silently, for release.

Toki suddenly pulled off, panting, replacing his mouth with a slow, steady hand.

"I t'ought you gets off on bein's a dick to Toki." Skwisgaar's eyes snapped down, bewildered. "But you don't. You _needs_ Toki. Yous _needin's_ ta feels betters dan somebodies or else you ain'ts shit."

Skwisgaar watched as Toki reached around with his free hand and, biting his lip, extracted a sizable butt plug. The realization that Toki planned to ride him, combined with soul-cleaving psychoanalysis and the tingling lube now spreading over his cock, had him so turned on he felt dizzy. 

Toki threaded his fingers into Skwisgaar's sweat-dampened hair as he straddled him and clenched, hard. "Kindsa i-ron-ic dat you's Toki's bitch now, huh?" And he dropped.

Skwisgaar bit down on a corner of his lip until he tasted blood. Toki felt like nothing he'd ever thrown his dick into before. And he rode him without mercy, feet planted on the floor, one hand gripped firmly in Skwisgaar's hair, the other braced against his shoulder, grinding his own cock into the taut, fleshy planes of Skwisgaar's abdomen as he went.

"Looks at me." Toki commanded him with a whisper. It was only then that he realised his counterpart was experiencing the same blissful misery as he. Still it went on, Toki alternately throwing his head back to howl out all the shouts and moans Skwisgaar could not and dipping forward to bite some piece of exposed flesh.

Watching Toki move so wildly on top of him, all Skwisgaar could think about was how badly he wanted to kiss him. He couldn't explain it. He never kissed his mistresses. There was something about that pouting, panting mouth, that silly mustache, that he wanted to smother.

If he didn't come right now he was going to die.

"Ams you done? Cant's take no more?" Toki must have sensed it, though his own warbling voice suggested he was nearing his end, too.

Skwisgaar simply looked up at him, swimming eyes pleading in anguish.

"Den says my name." He felt under him for the little silicone nub.

"T-Toki…" Skwisgaar's throat was dry, his tone unsure. But as Toki's fingers freed him from the cock ring – and, with it, a week of unadulterated torture – he found his voice.

"TOKI!"

"Dat's right."

The Norwegian only gave him two more bobs before he lost himself in his own orgasm, but it did the job. Skwisgaar came with agonizing fury, screaming into his friend's chest. Toki held him close, petting his hair until the whimpers died down, reaching out with one hand at a time to unbuckle the arm restraints. 

As Skwisgaar came down, he realised something was off. His release brought no relief. He was still hard, still deep inside a lazily grinding Toki, who'd taken up massaging his shoulders just like he'd done earlier.

Pure, animal lust overcame Skwisgaar. He wrapped his sore, heavy arms around the surprised Norwegian and stood, forgetting, for the moment, that his feet were still lashed to the chair. They fell, together, Toki painfully bracing the impact with an elbow, Skwisgaar, with both knees.

But Skwisgaar didn't care. He was hungry. Starving. He fumbled awkwardly with Toki's hips, fingers still regaining feeling, forcing himself back inside, humping awkwardly against the imperfect angle.

Toki grasped him roughly by his mane and pulled. He said nothing, instead communicating his warning via ice blue glare alone. Skwisgaar calmed, momentarily, allowing Toki enough room to sit up and reach forward to unbuckle the ankle restraints. Well, one restraint. Probably best to keep this wild boar under _some_ control. 

Toki considered lying back and letting Skwisgaar rut out the remainder of his celibacy, when he spied the satchel beside the chair. With a wry smile, he ran a hand over Skwisgaar's flat ass. From the bag he extracted the bottle of lube and a little secret.

"Toki…"

"Shut up and grab you's ass."

Toki coated his index finger in lube while the Swede adjusted his position. He spread his cheeks apart, as commanded, and Toki swirled his finger around the puckered hole, delighting in the flinch it produced. It slid in with little resistance, Toki probing for a reaction to ensure his angle was just right. When Skwisgaar's hips stuttered forward, he withdrew, and quickly replaced it with something too firm to be a finger, too small to be a plug…

"Toki…?" 

"I said shut up." He resumed his position beneath the confused Swede like nothing had happened. "Now you's gonna fucks me, or what?"

It only took until the tip of his cock met that familiar softness that Skwisgaar regained the wanton carnality that poisoned his brain moments earlier. He thrust forward, groaning at the combination of wetness and heat and tension and _Toki_ that enveloped him.

His knees hurt from the fall, but he didn't care. Toki had shushed him twice, but he _didn't care_. He couldn't help it, any of it. He just plowed on, out of his mind with the pleasure and pain of all of it, willing it to be over and never wanting it to end.

But then a strange sensation assaulted him somewhere deep inside. His eyes locked on Toki's, which gave away nothing.

"AAAaahh!"

His rhythm faltered as the vibrations intensified, until he could do no more than twitch and writhe and cry out against the invasion he could not escape.

"TOKI! TOKI – _MIN GUD_!" Skwisgaar grasped blindly at whatever part of his tormentor's body he could find – an arm, a chunk of hair – and held on as his second orgasm rocketed through him with brutal force.

Even after he was totally spent, empty of every drop he'd been withholding for the past week, Toki did not let up. Skwisgaar fell to his side, pulled fruitlessly at his still-bound leg, in futile effort to get away. The display was more than enough for Toki to stroke himself to his own second climax.

Tears were streaming down Skwisgaar's face by the time Toki saw fit to move. He crawled over to him, concealed remote control now on full, teasing display, and grasped his throat by a single, cum-covered hand.

"Please…" Skwisgaar eked out, tears and sweat marring his beautifully destroyed visage, eyes darting between the remote and Toki's cold stare.

"You gonna remembers who ams in charge here?"

Skwisgaar nodded desperately.

Toki turned up the volume.

"I can't hear you."

"YES, SIR!"

"You pulls dat shits again, I breaks every bone in you's body. _Forstå_?"

"YES, SIR!"

"Good."

Toki switched the vibrator off and released the Swede's throat. The transition from 100 to zero was jarring; Skwisgaar felt like he hit a brick wall. His whole body throbbed, he coughed weakly from the choke hold, and soreness from the entire affair began to set in.

He had no idea what Toki had gotten up to do, although he did notice his ankle had been freed. He just wanted to crawl into a dark hole and die. Exactly how this flavor of BDSM was supposed to cure his guitar exhaustion was utterly beyond him. He didn't feel recharged, no confidence was restored. There was no revelatory moment like the last time with Toki.

Instead, he was embarrassed, chagrined, and so very tired. Sure, some of it was his doing. Well, all of it was his doing. His dynamic with Toki, within the band, at one extreme, was bound to necessitate this opposite extreme in some other venue. So it happened to be the bedroom. It could just as well have been mountain climbing or video games or one of the few other things at which Toki was – gasp – better than him, that would have allowed the little Norwegian to upend the balance of power between them.

He was just so lucky to happen upon this shared kink. Very, very lucky indeed.

"Cans you stand?"

Toki's voice was much gentler than it was when he addressed him however long ago. It felt like a thousand years had passed, but Toki had only gotten up to give himself a cursory wipedown and fetch a blanket. Skwisgaar regarded him with a goofy, serene smile.

"Oh boy…"

He wrestled the languid Swede upright and wrapped him in the heavy wool. Skwisgaar nuzzled Toki's neck as his friend lifted him off the floor.

"You's good kid, Toki."

"Ja, ja."

Toki maneuvered the pair through the door on the other side of the room. It was similarly stark, but this one contained a four-poster bed. He placed the Skwisgaar burrito on one side then sat gently beside him.

"Here." Toki held a glass of water up to Skwisgaar's lips, ripping the wrapper off a protein bar with his teeth while he drank.

"Good. Now eats dis." Skwisgaar sniffed at it.

"Lunas bars ams for chicks, dildoes."

Toki smiled, relieved Skwisgaar was coming back to himself.

"Eats it anyways, asshole."

He took a bite, surveying his surroundings as he chewed.

"Tokis."

"Ja?"

"Why I aint's gots no arms?"

Toki laughed as he un-swaddled Skwisgaar. As soon as his arms were free, Skwisgaar pulled Toki into a bear hug.

"What ams dat fors?"

Skwisgaar shrugged, adding a kiss to the top of his little Toki's head for good measure.

"You's good kids."

Toki smiled, relishing the lucid praise for as long as he could before deep sleep overtook them both.

 

The night was good. Skwisgaar had found something – someone – that restored his confidence, something - someone - he could use when the notes weren't landing and the riffs weren't soaring. That thing, that person, invited him in for it, read him raw, stripped him down to his bare essentials so he could stay the best there ever was.

The morning would be different.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Someone please help me credit who came up with the "Skwisgaar only speaks broken English" headcanon. Tumblr is shit at searching your own likes. 
> 
> Also the whole Toki speaking Norwegian thing is a joke about like, apparently Norwegians can understand other continental Scandinavian languages really well, Finns can mostly, but Swedes can't understand shit. I love the fics where they speak their native languages to each other (evidenced by my own fics in which they speak their native languages to each other) but I also love Skwisgaar being totally effing flummoxed by Toki speaking *basically* the same language to him.
> 
> 5/21/18 - Reworked the ending because it was driving me nuts.


	3. Cold Dead Winter

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> All's fun in love and bondage... until someone gets hurt.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is considerably darker than the other two. Please look carefully at the tags before you read.

The yard wolves were howling again.

It was not in their nature to howl. Not these wolves. It had been bred out of them over generations of isolation from their brethren outside the Mordhaus grounds.

But they howled, now, for the attention they craved and lacked. Because what kind of cruelty was it to show a thing love and then take it away?

 

The fall Toki suffered last week was worse than anyone initially thought. Two hairline fractures and a torn ligament in his left elbow put him out of commission and into a deep depression.

Though he knew, in theory, that what happened in the dungeon stayed in the dungeon, he couldn't help but place the blame squarely on the shoulders of Skwisgaar Skwigelf.

Skwisgaar Skwigelf, who'd used their session to recover from his bout of "guitar exhaustion" and return to top form.

Skwisgaar Skwigelf, who never apologized for breaking his arm or thanked him for resolving his psychological bullshit.

Skwisgaar Skwigelf, who shamelessly played all of his rhythm parts while he sat there on the couch, useless, seething.

At least his other arm functioned well enough to hold a bottle.

 

* * *

 

A request from the manager to see him, immediately, apropos of nothing else, was like being called to the principal's office. Did your grandmother die? Are you being expelled? Or is he just going to waste time you could better spend jacking off?

"Skwisgaar, I'll make this brief."

Good. The guitarist needn't bother even sitting down.

"There are only three people in this house who know what took place between you and Toki last week. If you want to keep it that way, I suggest you go and talk to him right now."

Not exactly what he was expecting for a lecture.

"What? Abouts what's I gots to talks to dat dildoes abouts?"

Charles adjusted his glasses.

"You have noticed Toki has been rather depressed and moody, since his, ah, injury. Yes, you have." The last was in response to a dismissive shrug, Skwisgaar's default aloofness emerging to protect him.

"Go and talk to him. Make sure he's doing okay. Trust me, it will be better coming from you than from me or, ah, Dr. Twinkletits."

"And if I don't?" A wry smile played across Skwisgaar's features. He'd been meaning to test the waters, after all.

Offdensen sighed deeply. Rose out of his chair. Rounded his big mahogany desk to confront Skwisgaar, face to sternum.

"If you don't, you might lose a friend."

 

The tremor in Charles's voice reverberated through every inch of Skwisgaar's being. It hit harder than any idle threat of sanction or violence could have. It followed him down the hall and echoed around his cavernous skull as he made his way across the compound to Toki's room.

Lose a friend? He and Toki were _barely_ friends. They tolerated each other's existence, each a necessary evil in the other's work and home life. Even "necessary" was a stretch. If Toki swore him off, so what? Skwisgaar could see no measurable impact to his daily life.

He told himself these things as he walked, not noticing his own quickened pace, the pounding in his chest or the prickle down his spine.

Toki got bummed out and boozy often enough. He was a moody little prick and he liked the sauce. So he got a booboo and couldn't play guitar, so what? It's not like he put in the kind of work Skwisgaar did. Not even close. He should be relishing the opportunity to sit back and get paid for doing nothing. In fact, if anyone should be mad, it should be Skwisgaar!

He convinced himself of this version of reality, not listening to the voice that called him a liar and a fool.

Skwisgaar made it to his counterpart's room with a defensive wall surrounding him on all sides. He knocked once then let himself in; no one had much respect for Toki's privacy.

"Toki?"

Bottles clanking on the bare stone floor as he pushed the door open nearly drowned out his call.

"By de names of Odin, Toki…"

Skwisgaar picked his way across the tiny room, carefully avoiding the smattering of broken glass, to loom over the bed where Toki lay, curled with his back to the door.

"Okay Misters Crybabies, you gots my attenshkion. Aldough I gots bes honest, dis whinin's an' complainin's ams nots a good looks."

But Toki did not respond.

"Alrights, alrights. I know yous ams mads at me. Tells me what I ams does to makes it betters, ja?"

But Toki did not respond.

Of all the childish, immature ways they fought, the silent treatment was never part of Toki's arsenal. He could never resist sniping back at the sniper.

 _Things are fine, everything is fine._ That same trepidation that followed Skwisgaar across Mordhaus rose in his throat. _It's okay, he's passed out, everything is fine._

The depression his body made on the tiny bed as he sat caused Toki's to roll over, into him.

Dried vomit caked on his shirt. Broken elbow swollen and red, sling and brace long gone to who knows where. And no movement.

"Toki…"

Skwisgaar seized the young man's face and squeezed, hard.

"TOKI! _Vakna!_ "

He slapped and shook and slapped and shook and begged for things to just _be fine_.

Just as his face began to screw up in misery, his calmer senses noticed something. Toki _was_ moving. Something deep inside. A faint beating heart.

The side of him that knew what to do when his mother came home bruised and crying, that knew how to beat a brainwashed assassin to death with his guitar – that side took over.

He reached past the half-empty bottles of Jim Beam and oxycontin on the nightstand to Toki's phone, swearing quietly when a screen full of Norwegian text greeted him.

One deep breath, and he cradled the limp body in his arms.

 

Glass crunched freely underfoot now. Bottles exploded under the mass of two men, one toeing the edge between life and death, the other summoning more strength than what lie dormant in his muscles to ensure his friend did not make that passage.

 

Skwisgaar crashed out of Toki's open door and sprinted down the hall. Shards of glass wedged into the soles of his boots with each step, but he couldn't feel it. He couldn't feel the inferno in his shoulders, protesting their immense load, or in his hamstrings, questioning what on Earth possessed him to go for a run.

He could only feel the deadweight he carried, the friend he clutched to his chest with white-knuckled fervor, feet dangling, head bobbing, willing him to _just hold on_.

The common room was a blur. Shouts from bandmates – and the scrambled footsteps that followed – went unheard and unheeded. He didn't have time for the lump in his throat, for the tears that stung the corners of his eyes. Left, left, up the stairs. Infirmary.

There was a system of colors and codes designed to make situations like these easy for dumb idiots like Dethklok to handle. Yellow, a hangover, like the sun you didn't want to see the next morning. Blue like the water someone probably drowned in. Red for blood, usually knives or punching.

Charles tried to make it easy.

"Someones help he ODed!"

What possible use was it to remember that Orange meant overdose when bellowing in a thick Swedish accent, in the center of a hospital wing designed to keep these men alive, summoned a flock of attendants in less than a second.

Skwisgaar collapsed the moment his burden lifted. Murderface, Pickles, Nathan descended upon him, picked him up off the floor, peppered him with questions. Dude what the fuck? Is he okay? How'd you find him?

More questions from a nurse. What had he ingested? How much? When did this all happen?

Still more from Charles. Accusatory. Blaming.

When finally he spoke, it was to ask the nurse for some propofol and to get this goddamn glass out of his feet.

 

* * *

 

"Orange. Dat's ams goods colors on you."

The irony was utterly lost on Skwisgaar as he paid compliment to the new hard cast that bound Toki's left elbow.

"Can'ts gets rid of it dis way."

Toki spoke to the ceiling. He'd tried his best to actively disregard Skwisgaar's presence beside his infirmary bed. Humming discordantly while Skwisgaar picked at his guitar. Feigning sleep while Skwisgaar attempted small talk.

But after two days the game had lost its charm.

He still paid Skwisgaar little attention, but he paid attention. And Skwisgaar still mostly left him alone, but he never left him.

Skwisgaar sat, at present, in the lounge chair that had served as his bed for the better part of the last week, bandaged feet propped characteristically callously on Toki's side table. Their conversation, such as it was, had thus far avoided the elephant in the room. But the longer he avoided biting the bullet, the heavier that elephant grew.

"Doctor says only gots anodder mont' in dat t'ing, so, ja, dat's ams goods."

"Six weeks physicals therapy."

Skwisgaar looked at his hands. Wished he hadn't left his guitar on the other side of the room. He hated using that fucking wheelchair.

"Dids you try to kills yourself."

It wasn't a question, but rather a statement which needed confirmation or refutation.

Toki was silent, pondering the query for longer than should be necessary. Neither of them knew when Skwisgaar had reached for it, but he simply stroked the back of Toki's hand, waiting.

"I don’ts know."

"Dat amment's good enough."

"I don'ts know, Skwisgaar! I's been wasted for like two weeks. I don'ts remembers nothin'. Jus' pain. And wantin's dat pain to go away."

"So dat's ams a 'yes.'"

"No it's not!" He finally turned to face his accuser, withdrawing in a huff the hand he only just noticed had been held. "Why you does dis to me? Tells me what I t'inks and feel and can do can'ts do. 'Oh, Toki can't drinks booze'—"

"You can't."

"—'Toki can'ts have friends what ams de clown,' 'Ja, Toki ams nihilist, jus' like me.' Well guess what, Skwisgaar, dere _ams_ good t'ings and bad t'ings, and morals, and bad people, and you's one'a dem!"

"And you's a spoiled brat!" Skwisgaar sat back in his chair with a sigh. Pulled a foot into his lap to pick at the bandage. He wasn't supposed to scratch, but the stitches drove him nuts. And there were a lot of them. "Doctor says ifs you gets here any laters yous be dead rights now."

"Wells t'anks de dark lord Satan for dem pairs-a-medics den, right?"

Skwisgaar chuffed, incredulous.

"Pairs-a-medics didn'ts brings you here."

Toki's eyes widened with realization. The bandages on his feet. The constant vigil. Nobody had bothered to tell him. Skwisgaar didn't brag about it.

He turned back to the ceiling.

"Wells I's fine now. You don'ts gots to stick around 'n' babysits me."

"You's nots fine, Toki."

Toki pounded his good fist into the bed, launching himself upright and into his friend's face.

"Dere you goes again! Stops fuckin' tellin's me my business! Why de fucks you care anyways?!"

"Because I loves you you dumb fucking idiot!"

The two men stared each other down, challenging the other to make the next move, until the fury and tension subsided under the weight of the revelation.

"I's tired." Toki broke first.

"Ja. Me's too."

 

* * *

 

A switch flipped in Toki after his release from the hospital wing. Though it passed unremarked at the time, Skwisgaar's confession felt like a gift to him. He used it as a weapon every chance he got.

At first, the attacks were small.

A barely noticeable brush of arms.

Sitting that little bit closer in the hot tub.

An off word or a devious wink in front of the other guys, threatening to out him on the merest of whims.

Skwisgaar reached his limit sometime after Toki shoved him into a closet, ground into his rear and fondled his crotch with savage abandon, like every part of Skwisgaar was his, like his foolish love entitled Toki to anything he wanted.

 

"Dis gots to stop."

Toki didn't bother getting up from his craft table. His broken arm was propped up on it with a stack of old comic books, a perfect angle to hold still one microscopic piece of model plane or another.

"I's busy."

"You can'ts keeps, walkin's around here, messings me arounds likes dis!"

"Yeah, I can."

Skwisgaar pivoted in a circle, looking for something to throw or kick or _some_ way to just get this dick's attention.

"Listens." His tone lowered as he got nearer the desk, in what he hoped was enticement. "You gots sometin's you gots ta works out wit' me? Does it in de dungeon."

Toki flapped his useless wing at him.

Skwisgaar threw up his hands, through his hair, to the ceiling.

"Well den what de fucks you _wants_ from me?!"

"You never fucking apologized, you selfish fucking asshole!" Toki shot up out of his chair, sending hours of work crashing to the floor and back to its original state. He'd worry about it later. "I can'ts do's not'in! You ever, ever t'inks Toki likes playin' de guitars as much as you?"

Skwisgaar stifled an eye roll in the face of Toki's manic rage.

"But I can'ts do none'a dat, an' yous goes along, 'Oh I'm Skwisgaar, we don'ts needs Toki,' well dat's bullshit, cos _you needs Toki!_ But you breaks me and leaves me to fuckin's rot in de gutters. _"_

Skwisgaar was gobsmacked.

"Wha—you punish me for dat in de scene!"

"But why's I gets punish too? Why's my pain gots to last while you's livin' it up? When I's de one what helps you get dat way!"

There was no answer for that, either in the abstract or in Skwisgaar's mind. Apart from a sore ass, he'd never suffered lasting injuries – physical or emotional – from any of his kink sessions. They were self-contained, neat packages of pain dealt and accepted and processed and enjoyed, all in the moment.

Toki's moment still hadn't ended.

"I's…I'm sorry."

"Too late, Skwisgaar."

"I means it."

"I don'ts care."

Skwisgaar held up his hands in exasperation.

"So what? Yous gonna keeps fuckin's wit' my head? I tells to yous one t'ing by askidensk an' you holds it overs me like dat, forevers?"

"Maybe."

"Dat amment's fair."

Toki wiggled his bright orange cast in Skwisgaar's face again.

"Lifes ams nots fair, Skwisgaar."

The Swede collapsed, defeated, on the corner of Toki's bed, hair falling around his face as he held it in his hands. The veneer of protection it provided in fact allowed Toki to stare, consider, plan.

"I tells you what." He moved across the room in a pace as measured and terrifying as his tone. Gripped Skwisgaar's chin firmly, dug his fingers into his jaw and throat. Skwisgaar knew better than to meet his gaze.

"I tells you what, _Skwisgaar_. You t'ink dis all happens in de scene, stay in de scene, den ja, we settles it in de scene. I cans manage," he forestalled Skwisgaar's question about his busted limb. "Twenty minutes. You t'inks you can cleans yousself up and look pretties for me in dat time?"

Skwisgaar stifled a scornful snort. "Ja."

Toki tightened his grip.

"Didn'ts catch dat. What's you say?"

Their eyes met. Daggers firing between. A test of will.

"Ja… _sir_."

"Good boy."

Skwisgaar bit back a sneer at the false praise as Toki shoved him out the door.

 

* * *

 

_"Toki, there are a few important provisos I want you to abide whenever you feel the compulsion to perform a scene like this."_

_Toki blinked at Charles like he was speaking Tagalog._

_"Ah, I mean. Okay. There are five things I need you remember to do this safely, okay? Five things. Remember them. It's very important."_

 

Toki opened his special closet as soon as Skwisgaar was gone. A content smile spread across his features.

* * *

 

**_"Don’t perform a scene when you're in a heightened emotional state. You need a clear head."_ **

Toki wore that placid smile down the hall, around the corner, through the secret passageway and down the spiral stairs, and into his private pleasure chamber.

The bed was done up with crisp white sheets. Shackles hung from each of the four posts. He laid the toys aside and rearranged the wrist restraints to the center of the bed, looped around the single metal bar that served as a headboard.

He saw no need to undress. They wouldn't be down here long. Skwisgaar was a quick learner, and Toki could teach this lesson fast.

Instead he waited, implements in hand, entire body growing rigid with wrath and glee cast under the single harsh spotlight that hung above the bed.

At the nineteenth minute, the door to the antechamber opened. Sixty seconds passed before a knock sounded on the one that led to Toki.

"Enters."

Skwisgaar Skwigelf, clad in his plush maroon robe, proud features engaged in a battle between submission and superiority.

"Perfic timin'. Guess I should expecs dat from yous." Toki's smile was all teeth, no joy. The reptile brain that did most of Skwisgaar's thinking wanted to either punch him or retrace his steps. But, he carried on.

"Gets on de bed, on you's knees."

Skwisgaar carried his head high as he gracefully dropped the robe at Toki's feet, climbing into place.

The subconscious part of Toki's mind was struck, once again, by how _goddamned beautiful_ the specimen was it beheld, bathed in white light from the heavens. But that part was smothered just as quickly as it surfaced.

**_"Second, only use toys you've practiced using. You can practice with me, or I'll make suitable arrangements."_ **

"Tonite, we's usin's dese." Toki held up two bamboo canes, one considerably thicker than the other.

Skwisgaar hadn't been caned in over a year. His recall was a pain so unpleasant he never wanted to do it again. Still, he silenced his objections.

Most of them.

"Uh… you knows what you's doin wit' dat?"

A quick snap to the back of Skiwsgaar's skull suggested that, no, he did not.

"Question me again, you gets de hooks. _Forstå du meg_?" Through the haze, Skwisgaar choked out his rote response.

Toki was rough in his preparations, jerking the Swede's gangly limbs, pinching his skin as he tightened the restraints. Not for the first time, Skwisgaar found himself longing for Offdensen's touch.

 

 _ **"Third. You must always, always give your subs a means to stop the scene. A safe word and/or a noisemaker they can use to get your attention."** _

Toki shoved something smooth and metal into his captive's bound hands. Skwisgaar examined it. A Deth Bell. Toki hadn't bothered with kill switches before – a gross oversight on both their parts. Skwisgaar knew this meant he was afraid of going off the deep end.

Skwisgaar knew this meant _he_ should be afraid, too. But his pride, and his love, was at stake.

The first blow landed square across his ass, without warning. The cane lingered in place for a moment before lifting. That's what he hated. Proper technique suggested driving the pain deep into the muscle, letting it fester, unlike the glancing taps of a crop or a whip or a human hand.

Skwisgaar wasn't a fan of pain that ran deeper than skin.

Toki remained silent as he swung the cane, again and again in the same exact spot. Skwisgaar let the grunts and groans pour out freely. It's what Toki wanted, to make him suffer. He may as well sell the drama.

 

What he could recount of the stretch of time that followed varied depending on who was asking. To Charles, he told everything. He spared Toki the details.

 

_**"Number four. If you see red, that's your red flag."** _

Three swift blows landed in quick succession across his upper back. He gasped at the sharpness of this pain, compared to the dull ache still throbbing across his ass and thighs, and then at the warm trickle that tickled the side of his ribcage.

 _WHAP! WHAP! WHAP!_ _WHAP! WHAP!_ They followed no discernible pattern and observed no practiced technique. The tip of the cane bit into Skwisgaar's skin over and over, leaving a bloody crosshatch in its wake.

Skwisgaar was lost. This wasn't a scene anymore, if it ever was. It was a beating.

And he could do nothing to stop it. Unless…

The bell dropped uselessly to the floor.

If it made a sound, it was drowned out by the inhuman wailing and monstrous grunting of the two men that occupied the room.

Toki had taken up the heavier cane, the thin one starting to slip out of his sweaty hand. This thicker stalk he used like a club, gripping it in the middle and bringing it down, forehand and backhand, anywhere it cared to land. The pronounced nubs of Skwisgaar's spine were as good a spot as any.

He felt the bones cracking. Wondered what paralysis would be like, if he would still be able to play and to fuck. If anybody would care about him once he became half a man.

_Purple. Rosemary. Dinosaur. Please. Stop. I get it. I'm sorry. Please. No more._

No safe words had been discussed. His tongue couldn't produce rational speech anyway, just animal noises and a singular, forbidden thing.

The man who rounded on him, cane in hand, the man who commanded his tear-soaked gaze with the deadly tip of that brutal instrument under his chin – that man was unrecognizable. The man Skwisgaar had known for the better part of his life, that Toki Wartooth, he was not in this room. Not anywhere close.

"What de fucks you calls me?"

It was only then that Skwisgaar realised he was calling out to that other man, that Toki, screaming his name in agony, begging for his attention and to come to some sort of lucidity.

 _WHOOM!_ And then half of his face was numb, and blood dribbled out of his ear, and his jaw hung slack.

"After alls dis, haven'ts you learns no manners?"

 _CRACK!_ And his vision went black, but only for a moment, and the trail of blood from his ear joined up with the fresh cleft in his lip.

He spread his hands open, showed Toki his palms in surrender and in effort to reveal they were empty of the safety bell, but the gesture was overlooked.

Toki retreated for a moment, returned with a hard rubber ball gag. Skwisgaar didn't fight it anymore. Just let Toki do whatever he wanted. That was the point, right?

He held onto consciousness long enough to imagine life after he was gone. Nathan and Pickles and Murderface proved what kind of mourners they'd be. Toki might be ostracized. In all likelihood, he'd get the spotlight he so violently coveted.

The last thing he felt before he slipped into the darkness was a cold smear of lube. Whatever Toki wanted. Wasn't that the point?

 

* * *

 

_"This last one isn't a rule so much as a request. **Always tell me when you scene.** If things get hairy – ah, I mean, if someone gets injured, I can have medics on scene immediately."_

_Charles took Toki's face in his hands._

_"You're an adult. I know the guys don't always treat you like one, and I, ah, I'm guilty of that too. But I trust you to make the right call."_

"Toki, have you seen Skwisgaar? He's late to practice." Charles making a house call was not usually a good sign.

"I don't t'ink so…" Toki's sharp eye contact suddenly diffused.

 

…I'm putting together the SR-71 Blackbird. { _Why    is it   in       pieces on       the ground?  ??_ } Skwisgaar comes nosing around. _Skwisgaar comes nosing around. SKWISGAAR COMES NOSING AROUND._ We talk for **REDACTED** minutes or so. Skwisgaar yells at me about ~~~~~tktktktk~~~~ and _hhhhHHHHHHhhh_         **[SCENE MISSING]**       with the cane…

 

The chair had barely hit the floor before Toki was out of the room, bolting down the hall. Charles trailed closely, shouting something into his shirt sleeve.

Around the corner, down the secret staircase, crashing through the front room. But two deceptively strong arms wrapped around his midsection prevented Toki from going any further.

Charles slung him around, said with a glare _Don't move an inch_ , and wrenched open the door to the room where Skwisgaar lay.

And he was surprised. By the restraints Toki had actually taken the time to undo. By the blood-soaked blanket that covered him. By the semblance of aftercare for a man he had very clearly left here to die.

Charles moved with cautious urgency. He didn't know if he was approaching a corpse.

But the blood was warm on his thumb as he grazed it over split lips, sweeping stained golden hair out of the man's face. The luck Skwisgaar thanked for bringing Toki into this part of his life could be all that kept it from slipping away.

Offdensen knelt above his head, cradling it gently in his hands, as he waited.

"Five things, Toki. That was all."

And then a cacophony as Klokateers dressed like field medics rushed into the room from another hidden doorway. They said things like "spinal stabilizer" and "cervical collar." Toki wasn't sure. He couldn't really hear them, or see them.

To Toki, the room was on fire. Everything was on fire, and it was he who lit the match.

 

* * *

 

The scene was familiar. That smell of iodine. Too-clean sheets tucked too tight around the body that lay in them.

This time, Skwisgaar was grateful for it all. Even the dull ache that coursed through him from head to toe. He was alive, and he felt everything, everywhere.

Including the knife piercing straight through his heart, along with a pair of icy blue eyes.

"Hey."

He couldn't respond.

"I's been waitin' for a while. You was out for longer dan me. Always gots to win."

His forced laugh was discordant in a room full of beeps and whirs and silence otherwise.

Skwisgaar’s swollen eyes flitted between Toki and the burly Klokateer standing over his shoulder.

"I… uh. I gots to goes away for a while." He rubbed his neck and shifted in his seat. The Klokateer tightened his grip on something hard and black and best left to the imagination of both men.

"I be's back. Dunno when. De deal was I could stay til you was awake. So."

His fingers twisted in the fabric of his pants. He knew his time was running out.

"I know I don't got no rights to asks you dis. But does you still loves me? Because... I was gonna tells you to fuck off. But. Toki can'ts live wit'out you Skwisgaar! We can'ts use each other like dis. Likes fuckin' garbage cans what ams not worth nothin'."

The words came out in a teary rush. Charles' shadow clouded the tiny window in the door.

"I gots ta go."

He made no effort to move, not until the hulking mass behind him shifted into his space.

Skwisgaar wasn't being given much time to consider the situation. He didn't know where Toki was going, or for how long, or if he'd be able to talk to him. He didn't know if he _should_ ever talk to him again. He didn't even know the extent of his injuries, had no idea how long he'd been lying there, broken and unconscious at the hands of his friend. His best friend. The man he loved.

With a heavy sigh, he slid his hand to the edge of the bed.

Toki took it.

For now, that was enough.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thus concludes the Yard Wolves Trilogy. Will I do prequels and sequels??? I DUNNO! Ask George Lucas!

**Author's Note:**

> I reorganized this story from the NSFW prompts so it stood alone. If you bookmarked it or whatever, first, thank you! Second, the URL I think is the same, so your bookmarks should still work. The NSFW prompts stories I moved to a different post, which you can find [here.](https://archiveofourown.org/works/14064972/chapters/32401509)


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